


the miseducation of

by youcallitwinter



Category: Korean Drama, 상속자들 | The Heirs
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcallitwinter/pseuds/youcallitwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A before-and-after caricature of a relationship, an intimacy long gone. A friendship that was. A love that has been.</p><p>[young do; young do, bo na, kim tan] [oneshot] [pre-series]</p>
            </blockquote>





	the miseducation of

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a ficathon and totally forgot about it. I don't remember ever shipping Bo Na/Young Do, but some of my flist initially did and I'm just easily enabled, heh. Besides Tan/Young Do dynamic = fascinating forever.

Tan divides their timeline, Young Do knows this. A before-and-after caricature of a relationship, an intimacy long gone. A friendship that was. A love that has been.  
  
Tan has always been a fool for love. Young Do knows this.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
Young Do scoffs at the hand-holding because,  _fuck_ , who does that.  _When are you getting under that shirt,_ he asks. Tan is all slow smirks and slower words, drawing out the  _soon_ like just saying it that way would be enough to fill the time-gap between now and then.  
  
Bona slaps him. Hard. The first time he says it loud enough for her to hear, he goes home with an imprint of her outrage on his cheek. And as if that wasn't enough, she bitches at him the entire way back in  _his_ car, till he contemplates just opening the door and throwing her out.  
  
But his  _best friend in the whole world_ sitting on the other side of her, trying to look like he isn't caught in the middle would probably have something to say about that. Possibly with his fists and a lawsuit. After which his father would have something to say about  _that._ So he doesn't. He's fought enough losing fights on the mat to know a thing or two about winning.  
  
The mirror tells him her hand is two-fifths the size of his father's. That it still hurts like a bitch is kind of a minor annoyance.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
He makes sure to pointedly stare at her chest the next time he goes over to Tan’s and she’s there, she’s always there, rolling her eyes like his mere presence sets off the reflex.  
  
She stays though. Still sitting at the edge of the bed, not hiding, not covering, the rise and fall of her chest steady. He can’t leave an imprint the way she did, but he can make color rise through other means. He’s proficient in a lot you don’t learn from a wrestling mat.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
He tries. If there’s one thing to be said about him, it’s that he  _tries._  He tries a lot at a lot. He isn’t naturally a grade-A asshole. That shit takes practice.  
  
But her face stays annoyingly pale, no matter what he does, how he stares, what he says. The blue-green veins even more prominent now that he’s trying for a flood of red.  _You have stupid hair_ is her only contribution to acknowledgment of his existence.  
  
That he gels it back the next day is mostly because he was getting bored of the same-old, same-old. He gets bored easily. That boy in the school corridors with the hunted eyes and fractured arm could probably testify to that. The whole truth and nothing but, your lordship.  


 

-

 

 

What his world needs, he decides, is a good shake-up and he’s willing to offer his services. Washing plates can only sustain you so long before you smash one across the wall. If the shards cut the cook’s hand, he won’t tell father. There’s a lot to be said about inheritance. Maybe he doesn’t have to  _try_ the asshole stuff. He has genes enough to be a natural.

 

  
  
-  
  
  
  
So.  
  
He kisses Bona.  
  
Pressed against Tan’s bed-sheet on Tan’s bed with Tan’s music playing in the background. Some stupid shit about living each day like your last. Or everlasting friendship. Or love. Perhaps love.  
  
Tan nearly comes in, he’s at the door and Bona’s eyes are frantic. Just for a moment. And for a moment, relief.  _Relief._ Relief so strong, it makes him light-headed, almost. Tan will come in and this will be real. And this will never have been a friendship because you don’t kiss your best friend’s girl. You don’t want to kiss your best friend’s girl. You just don’t.  
  
This was never a friendship. Young Do knows this.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
Tan doesn’t come in. Gets called down again at the last minute by his concubine mother. Or the universe, or whatever. She doesn’t kiss back.  
  
Those parts. Not important, exactly. But clarity. For the sake of clarity. A cohesive story. Because the denouement lacks otherwise and he? He's all about the denouement.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
 _Did it._ Tan says, the smile growing across his bones, his hands splayed in front of him on the school desk. Shirt pulled low over his hands.  
  
 _Did what_ , he asks, anyway. He knows, of course. Knew it the moment he'd pulled back, her skin replaced with the air in his best friend's room.  
  
Tan only laughs.  
  
She let Tan. But she let Tan only because of what he did. So maybe, this is a friendship. Maybe this is what friendship is. Or love. Perhaps love.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
They’re still holding hands, even though it’s not cold anymore and that excuse is long done with and shamefully buried. It’s an odd mismatch, going back ten steps when you’ve almost hit home with the edge of the bat touching the mark. It doesn’t make any sense to go back. Fall back down on the mat when you have a winning grip.  
  
But whatever. Tan has always been a fool for love. Young Do knows this.  
  
Young Do has always mostly just been a fool.


End file.
